I have been absent -- absent on this blog, absent emotionally, and absent in relationships.
I'm just gonna say it. I've been scared.
I hate that feeling. I hate it with everything inside of me because I feel so powerless & alone when I'm scared. I feel agitated, angry and defensive about ALL I AM DOING. I question everything, thus creating sort of an internal struggle within my own mind, perhaps the worst kind of struggle there is. It is affecting my health & my well-being keeping this in. I need to let it gooooooo. I need to MOVE ON.
I'm scared to even admit I'm scared.
I just want Lola back. The old Lola. The one I didn't worry about so much. The one without the NG tube, without chickenpox scars all over her body, with a healthy immune system, with her normal "irregular," Scott-aided shits & bizarre sleeping patterns. I want to see her teensy smiles when I zoom her around the room & toss her up in the air gently like I used to do. I long to see her gain weight. I miss the old Lola so much it hurts.
I am really good at glossing over the shitty aspects of our girls' lives. I don't get on Facebook or Twitter & spill it because for me, the thoughts & prayers that I'd receive make me feel pathetic, pitied, and like so much is so "wrong" with our girls. I know this is strange/not the norm (big surprise there!), and I do tell a few people who are closest to me, but I just don't want to draw more attention to what most would view as a setback. I can't do it for fear of reinforcing the very thing I hope to avoid.
The pox were a bitch for my girl. I have never seen of nor heard of a case this bad in all my life. It was brutal. A few scabs fell off her scalp TODAY (almost 3 months later), if that tells you anything. Her poor face has too many scars to count, and I fear they aren't going to fade much except in color. It's heartbreaking to see. I won't even elaborate on how the pox affected her eating/drinking, weakened her immune system tremendously, made her cry inconsolably off and on for weeks, & affected her personality dramatically. I will focus on the fact that SHE (we?!) SURVIVED THIS as well as two subsequent viruses following the pox.
My girl is STRONG. SO VERY STRONG. (And THIS is what I want people to know about her! Not how sick she's been, how she's been thinner than maybe I've EVER seen her, that the NG tube stayed down 3 weeks until it inexplicably fell out New Year's Eve night (shit got wild, yo... kidding!), that she is eating "normally" now but her weight isn't coming back up yet, and there just are no words to explain how terrified this makes me. I won't go there with how we've talked about a g-tube for her until we're blue in the face but no matter how much we try to convince ourselves it's "the way to go," we both feel that even subjecting her to anesthesia might be the biggest mistake of our lives. I hate that I am worrying about her ability to handle a simple surgery as a 9 lb., almost 7 year old. WTFFFFFFFF.)
I KNOW it's all gonna be fine. Really. (Or maybe I don't?) Every day I assess her situation thoroughly -- are her eye/arm bones showing less than they were a day or even a week ago? Is she eating enough? Did I miss any supplements? Is the most recent cold/virus gone? Diaper rash better? Blowing out diapers still? Hair any thicker (she lost so much from the pox)? Mood better? It's f'ing ridic. I just wish instead of all that shit I could assess her for how HAPPY she is, how much she is enjoying her life, how much she is getting to do/experience & how much LOVE she is being showered with. Because to me, that is what matters SO MUCH MORE.
It's just so hard to maybe overlook the negatives for fear I'll miss something... or downplay something I maybe shouldn't downplay. I just want to be absent -- from fear and worry. Forever. And I know that is unrealistic, but dammit, I SO want that.
These fragile moments just put it all back into perspective for me. I should probably be grateful for that.
"When I hear somebody sigh, 'Life is hard,' I am always tempted to ask, 'Compared to what?''' ~Sydney J. Harris
We got this, Lola. We got this.